Between Us || LINGORM

Chapter 15: Private Moments

Orm didn't know why she was nervous. Maybe it was the way Lingling had extended the invitation without much ceremony, her words clipped but her tone oddly gentle: "If you're free, come by my place. I want to practice, and it's quieter there."

For all their shared banter and growing closeness, Lingling's condo remained uncharted territory for Orm. Lingling guarded her personal space fiercely; her room was pristine, her presence commanding, her routines regimented. To be invited into that world felt significant.

Orm took a deep breath as she approached Lingling's door. Dressed casually in a loose graphic tee and ripped jeans, she adjusted her backpack straps, then knocked lightly.

The door opened almost immediately. Lingling stood there, dressed in yoga pants and an oversized sweater that hung delicately off one shoulder. Her hair was pulled back into a loose bun, a few strands framing her face. She looked... softer. More approachable.

"Hey," Orm said, offering her a lopsided grin. "You didn't have to wait by the door, you know."

Lingling rolled her eyes but stepped aside to let Orm in. "I wasn't waiting. I just happened to be nearby."

Orm smirked. "Sure, sure. Whatever you say."

Lingling's condo was exactly as Orm had imagined: immaculate and understated, with a palette of cool tones. The living room was spacious, its centerpiece a sleek gray couch adorned with neatly arranged pillows. A guitar stand sat in the corner, holding a gleaming acoustic guitar that looked well-loved but meticulously maintained.

"You live like you're in a magazine," Orm quipped, dropping her backpack by the couch.

Lingling raised an eyebrow as she walked toward the kitchen. "And you live like a hurricane hit your dorm every morning."

"Hey, I like my chaos! It's called creative energy," Orm retorted, plopping onto the couch.

Lingling returned with two glasses of water, setting one in front of Orm before taking a seat beside her. "Well, try not to let your 'creative energy' ruin my place."

"Noted," Orm said with a grin, taking a sip.

Lingling picked up her guitar, settling it on her lap. The sight of her like this—focused, relaxed, completely in her element—struck Orm in a way she didn't expect. There was an intimacy to it, as though Lingling had peeled back another layer of her meticulously composed self.

"I usually practice alone," Lingling said, her fingers lightly strumming the strings. "But I thought it might be... different with company."

Orm smiled softly. "I'm honored to be your first audience. No pressure, though."

Lingling's lips curved into a faint smile, but she didn't respond. Instead, she adjusted the tuning pegs, her expression turning serious as she tested each string. The room filled with warm, resonant notes that seemed to wrap around them, making the space feel smaller, more intimate.

"Any requests?" Lingling asked, her tone almost teasing.

Orm leaned back, folding her arms behind her head. "Surprise me."

Lingling didn't hesitate. She began to play, her fingers gliding effortlessly over the strings. The melody was soft and contemplative, yet it carried an undercurrent of raw emotion. Orm recognized the song—one of those timeless ballads that always seemed to stir something deep within her.

As Lingling played, her usual poise gave way to something more vulnerable. Her brows furrowed slightly in concentration, her eyes half-closed as she poured herself into the music. Orm watched, captivated, feeling as though she were witnessing a side of Lingling that few ever got to see.